The Pitfalls of Imagination
by unifilar
Summary: A spell goes wrong, and now everyone Bonnie is connected to can intrude on her dreams. Understandably, she's not too happy about it. Bonnie/Damon.
1. Little Red

She had been here before.

As Bonnie walked cautiously through the woods, stepping over branches and crumbling leaves, she recognized the area. She had been here many, many times. It all felt familiar.

She was alone, wearing a quilted red shawl over her shoulders. When she remembered it was there, she touched it, and if she focused, it felt thin and smooth.

In these woods, you can only feel things when you focus on them, the idea of them. You can only hear if you think about it, and you can only see if you keep your eyes closed.

Dreams were weird like that.

The fog was thickening, like it always did. She was close, she could feel it. A small part of her knew that she has been here before, she knew how this dream ends, but she could not help feeling like_ this_ will be it,_ this_ will be the time it finally ended the way she wanted it to.

For a moment, she allowed herself a sigh of relief, and before she could stop herself she allowed her mind to wonder, to think-

_I'm all by myself, that's good, my dreams lately have allowed my friends-…_

She cut the thought off there, but it was too late.

"Thinking about me yet again, Bonnie?" drawled a voice from behind her, and she wanted to kick herself.

"Damn it," she muttered, refusing to turn around. "I thought it wouldn't happen this time."

"Well, you just keep getting lucky," Damon said, moving in front of her and smirking. She glared at him.

"For the record, I was _not _thinking of you. Apparently just thinking about the dream exploration spell triggers it while I'm sleeping. I don't have to thinking of a certain person for them to pop up, they just do, as long as we're both sleeping," she said, then eyed him decisively. "Don't worry about me pulling you into my dreams anymore. I'm not sleeping again until I undo the spell."

Damon held up his hands mock surrender.

"Don't get testy, Bon. It's not my fault you screwed it up in the first place."

"I did _not _screw it up. I just…misdirected it. Instead of me spying on Klaus' dreams by connecting to his subconscious, I allow others' subconscious to come into my dreams."

"Which, as fun as these meetings are, doesn't help us see what Klaus is planning."

"Yeah, I know. I'm working on it," she snapped, really wishing that she could expel him from her mind. But once she had the thought that this event might happen, that one of her friends could show up in her dream, it allowed the thought to become reality in her mind. Dream realities are extremely difficult to change completely since dreams were where subconscious intent reigned, as opposed to conscious intent.

Bonnie knew all of this. She had studied dreams for weeks before attempting this spell. But dreams were more volatile and unsteady than she even anticipated. When she had reached out with her subconscious to try to find Klaus, the spell had bounced back and made her dream mind sort of like a figurative black hole- it pulled in subconscious during dreams instead of reaching for them. So far, she had only been able to pull in the minds of her friends, one at a time. When you form a relationship with a person, you often think of them subconsciously and consciously, making it easier for them to come to mind during a dream. Except, now when Bonnie thought of her friends, instead of a figment of imagination that her brain conjured appearing, their actual mind was pulled from their own dream state and into hers.

It basically meant that Damon was in her head currently, and she did not like it. At all. It felt too private, too cut off from everything and everyone else. Dreams held worlds that would never be seen or felt by anyone else. Anything could happen here, and no one else would ever know.

Caroline, Jamie, and Elena had already joined some of her dreams. Bonnie had been meditating recently so her dreams would be calmer, and it usually worked with them. With Caroline, they merely had a picnic in a lush, open field and talked about what stupid thing Tyler had said that day. Elena and Bonnie had swum in a crystal clear ocean, eventually finding a shore and making sand castles. Having Jamie in her head was awkward at first, but they got to explore a projection of Chicago that her mind had manifested. Her father had taken her there when she was younger, and she always wanted to go back. It was nice to revisit and even though they had a rough past, Jamie was still a good friend to talk to. They had long since resolved the messy way their relationship ended, and Bonnie found him still to be as good of a listener as he used to be.

With them, the privacy was odd but comforting. It was intimate, but in a soothing way.

With Damon, it was unnerving.

"Actually, I don't mind it. I like seeing what makes our witch tick," Damon said, pointing at the center of her forehead. "Besides, our last date was so _romantic._"

"It wasn't a date," Bonnie said, crossing her arms. "I had fallen asleep thinking of an island I wanted to live on, _by myself_," she added pointedly. "I was happily making a hammock out of leaves and _you _showed up."

"Again, not my fault," Damon said, wagging his finger. "And come on, you're telling me you didn't like exploring the cave I found?"

He had her there. He had discovered a cave at the edge of the island and convinced her to go in. It had been incredible on the inside- it was enormous and studded with deposits of luminescent minerals, eventually leading to an underground aquifer that reflected all of the colors so magnificently upon the cave's gaping ceiling.

Sometimes she did that- dream of ethereal, beautiful things. Sometimes she dreamt of waterfalls and soaring through clouds and scaling mountainsides. That is, when she wasn't dreaming of sharp fangs and stakes and running and darkness and blood. _So much blood._

Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

"It was alright," she said. "I've had better dreams."

Damon stood a bit straighter and curtly pressed his lips together. Then he smirked, turning so he could walk with her.

"Well, then let's make this one the best," he said, his eyes flashing at her in challenge (_you only notice things in dreams when you focus on them_). "Where are we off to today? This forest is a big step down from our peaceful little isle. Can you change it into like the Grand Canyon or, I don't know, somewhere less damp?"

She glanced down at the grass. He was right, the blades were fairly dewy. They made the bottom of her jeans wet as she shuffled through.

"Well, actually, this is a dream I've had before," she said slowly. She did not know if she wanted to divulge this kind of information to Damon of all people, but being in a dream state makes you feel very lax about keeping secrets. Perhaps it was the inherent openness of the subconscious, but she could not find a good reason to hide anything from Damon at that moment.

Damon waited patiently, sensing the shift in tone.

"I'm walking to my Grams' house," she said, exhaling deliberately. "Except I never actually get there. When I get close...well, I guess you'll see for yourself." _That _part was unexplainable. "I started having these dreams right after she died."

He was silent, and she focused on the soft swish of plant life brushing by under their feet. She almost jumped in surprise when she felt his hand touch her shoulder. He was feeling her shawl.

"Looks like you're Little Red Riding Hood, on her way to grandmother's house," he said solemnly, and he caught her gaze, giving her a toothy, somewhat sad smile. "And I guess…I'm the wolf."

Bonnie blinked, the realization almost making her stop walking. _Yes, that makes sense. Since I used to blame Damon for Grams' death, it makes sense that he would come to mind in this dream scenario. I suppose my subconscious _was_ thinking of him after all. _

But this was not something Damon probably wanted to hear. It's one thing to assume that someone hates you and sees you as a villain, and another to have her subconscious show you exactly that.

Oddly enough, she felt guilty.

"I…guess," she allowed, staring at the ground. Damon did not respond, and her guilt grew. Maybe it was her subconscious wanting to set the record straight, maybe it was because emotions in dreams were all-encompassing, or maybe it was because the conversation was a long time coming. But finally, Bonnie paused and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. He turned her and arched a brow at her sudden halt.

"Look, I know it seems like I blame you for a lot of things, and I do. I know you don't think it's fair, but you have to understand that you and Stefan are associated with a lot of really awful, horrible things in my life. You two came into my life through Elena, and ever since then, nothing has been the same. All of this change- the good and the bad- has been kind of forced upon me because Elena is my best friend, and her problems are my problems." Bonnie took a breath, and, for a split second, she smelled smoke. But she did not focus on it. Instead, she held onto Damon's eyes, keeping them bound to hers. This was important, and she did not know when she would want to say it again. "It's unfortunate, that you come to mind when I think about these dark parts of my life. But I honestly think there will come a time when that's not true anymore. I think…well, I hope there will be a time when the positive things that you brought to my life will outweigh the bad."

She stepped toward him, wanting to feel the impact of the words she was about to say.

"For what it's worth, I stopped blaming you for Grams' death a while ago. I realized that she died trying to help me, and that was what she would have wanted. If she wouldn't be bitter over her own death, then I shouldn't be either."

Damon kept himself steady, but she could tell that her words had hit their mark, forcefully. His eyes burned into hers, fiery with interwoven flames of shock, confusion, gratitude, and disbelief. Maybe when they both woke up in their respective beds, he would not believe this moment and brush it off as a trick of the dream, trying to fool him into thinking that he was forgiven.

Maybe. She would not dare correct him if he asked, so she hoped a part of him would hold onto this. It would not be coming again.

_Speaking of which…_

Damon opened his mouth to speak, but Bonnie was already around him, determined. A second later, and she was already running.

"Bonnie?" he called after her, easily catching up. "Bonnie? What's going on?"

"I wanted-…I wanted to try!" she said breathlessly. Now that she was focusing on it, her sprint seemed so slow, like moving through molasses.

"To try what?"

"To try to make it on time!"

He fell quiet after that, for he must have smelled it too.

The smoke.

And then, all at once, they came upon the scene. She knew she had been close. Panting heavily, Bonnie stopped, but reluctantly. She only ended her small steps forward when she felt Damon's hand gently touch her elbow.

The forest had made way for a wide clearing, a humble house erected in the center. And draped over the house's framework, its beams and its shingles and windows, was the fire, just like how Bonnie's shawl was draped over her shoulders.

The sound was visceral and cruel. The crackling and snapping filled her ears, like bones being crushed. She suddenly wanted to run there anyway, to pound on the door and break it down, charging in and saving her grandmother from the inferno. _Maybe if I just keep going, maybe I try even harder…_

Before she even understood she had begun running again, she felt herself trapped in enveloping, warm arms. _You don't feel anything in a dream unless... _

It was a peculiar, accidental embrace, for she had simply run into him and he was simply holding her place. It was not a hug, but he gripped her firmly, like he was trying to calm her.

He was making shushing noises above her head. Without her knowledge, she had begun crying as well.

"I'm-…I don't blame you," she said into his chest, attempting to wrestle herself free, but her heart wasn't in it. "But that doesn't mean I'm okay with her being gone."

She felt his head rest itself on hers.

"I know," he said, his voice low. "I get it."

Bonnie did not understand how he capable of such things, of such tenderness, and she supposed that when she was dealing with his subconscious, his uninhibited core that was stripped away of all of its hard shell, the shell made up of smirks and wisecracks and sarcasm and anger and impulsiveness, that she was left with this. This figure of a man who spent too much time trying to bury what he _could_ be capable of underneath miles and miles of what only _he thought_ he was capable of. He _thought_ he was only capable of being hated, of being feared, of being hunted, of being a remnant of what his human self was. He was _actually_ capable of genuine compassion. He was_ actually_ capable of much more, and she wondered if it was only his subconscious that knew.

The blaze still sizzled behind him, but Bonnie found it a bit easier to focus only on her breathing and the beat of her heart.

"The story books got it wrong," he mumbled, pulling back slightly so she could look at him. He smiled, showing off its sharp corners purposefully. "The wolf wasn't so bad after all."

She chuckled, shaking her head, stepping back from him. He allowed her, his hands falling to his sides.

"No, he was bad, all right," Bonnie corrected him, turning away and wiping at her eyes. "He just wasn't as big of an asshole as Red first thought."

"That's good enough for the wolf," Damon said, just a pace behind her as she walked in the other direction. She sighed, frustration seeping into her without her consent. She was rapidly feeling very vulnerable, and she still was not used to feeling that way around Damon.

"I'm sorry you had to come into this dream," she said, wrapping her hands around her elbows. "I didn't want you to see that."

"So Big Bad Bonnie still sheds a few tears every now and then. Not a big deal. Stefan still gets choked up when he watches _Casablanca,_" Damon said with a snort, but then his tone veered unexpectedly. "But, you don't have to cry only when you think no one is watching, you know."

Bonnie's mouth hung slightly open as she turned to face him, but she could not think of anything to say at all. Damon continued.

The forest was starting to get blurrier and blurrier around him, but she did not notice.

"I know you feel like you have to be strong for everyone, because Bonnie the Great Bennett Witch has to always be in control and lead the charge against bad vampires everywhere, but maybe sharing these dreams with your friends will help understand you more as just Bonnie- not as the friendly neighborhood spellcaster."

He was offering her advice, but he was doing it with a casual expression and an innate flippancy that almost, _almost_, made her not focus on the utter sincerity that was ingrained in every syllable of what he was saying. It was so much easier to see that while they were in her dream, exposing their barest parts of themselves to each other in the utmost private of settings.

"Damon, I-…"

And then she woke up.

Bonnie blinked blearily. A sense of disappointment spilled over her, and she tried to ignore it. Her mind had begun to tuck the dream into a discreet crevice, but she unraveled it and played it back.

Some of the details were already fading away, but some highlights stuck to her brain like butterflies caught in a net.

The trees. The wet grass. His flashing eyes. His sharp smile. His warm arms. His sincerity. His advice.

She pushed some air from her lungs. As she rolled over toward her window, she tried to remind herself that there were still just dreams. Even if real subconscious were involved, they were still in imagined environments, imagined situations. Whatever happened, whatever was felt was not necessarily real.

She lifted her head, looking down at the dried marks from where her tears had slid onto the pillowcase.

For something that was just imagined, it certainly had felt real enough to her.

_That's good enough for the wolf._

The line rose to mind, and the corners of her mouth tugged up into a tired smile.

**end.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **To be honest, I kind of like this plot idea. I was planning on this being just a one-shot, but I think it'll be a series. At the very least, there will be a sequel that'll be a bit more...racy than this one, haha. And of course it'll be Bonnie/Damon themed, so you'll have that to look forward to! Plus, I want to explore the logic of dreams more. I'm OBSESSED with dreams and what they mean, so this kind of plot was really fun for me to explore. Also, I'm OBSESSED with the Little Red Riding Hood fairy tale, so I want to explore that comparison some more. I want Damon to call Bonnie "Little Red" because it reminds me of his nickname for her in the actual Vampire Diaries books. I've been learning a lot about L.J. Smith lately and I gotta say- I have a whole new level of appreciation for her. She's truly an amazing person and writer.

I'm totally rambling. Anyway, I hope you guys liked this! I had a blast writing it.

Also- remember all those fanfics I promised to write for all my wonderful people at Livejournal? STILL working on those, I'm SO sorry it's been taking forever. I started them when school was happening and then school took over my life, but now that's it's over, I'll be visiting those fanfics again and getting stuff done. SO excited for summer. It's like a writer's ideal time of life because there's much more free time. Thank you all for being SO patient and fantastic and understanding. I appreciate it deeply.


	2. Apply Some Pressure

He was feeling peaceful, a genuinely foreign sensation. As a general rule, Damon's life was a series of catalysts that put him at constant odds with himself, his environment, and others. Not much time for anything else, much less peace.

He was walking slowly through the house, his hands trailing along the wooden walls. He had never been here before, nor did he remember how he got there. All he knew was that he was in some sort of cabin, and he could hear rain pelting the roof above him. There seemed to be four rooms total- a front room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom. It was a pretty cramped space overall, though the bedroom was a bit bigger. There were small rugs here and there, but he never looked close enough to fully notice the intricate patterns woven into them. He entered the front room, looking through the window on his right. Rain was pouring down, drenching and re-drenching the glass, making it hard to see the area outside. From what he could tell, he was in the middle of a forest.

Peaceful. That was all he could make of it. Even though it was raining, it was not storming. The rain, although heavy in volume, was not being particularly destructive. Just falling. Flowing. He didn't mind it. Lingering at the window, he allowed himself to wonder if he was alone out here.

As if in answer, there was a knock at the door. When the sound didn't startle him, he wondered if he had been expecting someone.

He opened the door, some part of him knowing that the visitor was not going to be a stranger. It was someone he knew. Specifically, it was someone he knew very well. It was someone he wasn't exactly comfortable with, because he is not really comfortable around anyone anymore, but someone whose existence complimented his own. Before he could even figure out what that even meant, he saw her, and all parts of him were instantly submerged in relief.

Bonnie.

"Of course. It's a dream," he said, relaxing into the doorframe. There's something liberating about realizing that you are dreaming and, seemingly, have nothing to fear from the illusion. "We _have _to stop meeting like this. I think we subconsciously hang out more than we consciously do, Bon."

Which was actually true. Even since Bonnie had been "dream hopping" (a friendly term that Caroline had coined after Damon had taken to calling it "sleep spying"), he saw her more often in dreams that he saw her in real life. Mostly because they avoided each other in real life, and these dream meetings were, while random, frequent. At least once a week, oftentimes more than that.

Damon didn't mind. He preferred it, if he had to be honest. Communicating with her here was infinitely less complicated than how it was in real life. Something about the tendency to be more accepting of vulnerability in dreams and the innate ease of speaking truthfully. Something about how sometimes it felt like, in this reality, he was not quite as bad of a person. The farther he got away from his decisions and mistakes in the waking world, the better. Especially when it came to Bonnie.

Speaking of which. She was behaving oddly.

Granted, she was clearly soaked to the bone. Her hair clung to her face, curving around her cheeks and sliding down her neck. She was not wearing much- merely a grey tank top and black sweatpants, a common pajama outfit of hers. Despite the lack of temperature-appropriate attire, she wasn't shivering. She was panting, like she had been running for a very long time, and she was staring at him. Directly into his eyes. He hated it when people did that normally, but in a dream, it was more common. Proper eye contact was important for communication in a dream, Bonnie had taught him. Dreams are fickle; images are not taken in and noticed unless the dreamer focuses on them. During these subconscious rendezvous, Damon spent a lot of time focusing on Bonnie's image, recalling her every detail to mind so he could see her vividly. It was a somewhat intimate process, one made more awkward when she was soaking wet like that.

It was hard not to focus solely on how her shirt seemed adhered to her skin, hugging her body in all the right places.

Instead, he tried to focus on the fact that she wasn't talking. That was out of the ordinary. Usually they would meet, exchange witty conversation until he annoyed her into silence or until she actually enjoyed it. The former happened more often that the latter, but the ratio had been growing into his favor.

But here she was, damp, exhausted, and quiet. All she was doing was breathing and staring.

"Earth to Bonnie? I doubt I'm lucky enough to have dreamt that you lost your ability to speak and therefore to yell at me, so do you mind telling me why you refuse to greet me with your usual warm enthusiasm?" he asked, playful sarcasm evident in his voice. He seemed unworried, but he had been in enough of Bonnie's dreams to know what constantly plagued her mind. There was nothing surreal about her fears, and he had been able to help her before (at least, he hoped he helped).

She stepped forward, very much in his personal space. He didn't move an inch, just tilted his head down at her, focusing on her face, her body, the line of her collar bone and how it was slick with rainwater. He never was uncomfortable with the way they seemed to ignore personal boundaries. Seemed more honest than having to tiptoe around each other.

"I just…" she began, still breathless. She looked down for a moment, then back up at him. "I just need you to be here. For now."

Without so much as hesitation, she pressed herself forward, aligning her body with his and reaching his lips with her own. The kiss was full and deep and decisive and tasted like salt and rain. It was the kind of kiss that relayed precisely what the initiator desired.

For some reason, surprise was not a feeling that came to Damon in that moment. The kiss certainly was not an expected action coming from Bonnie, but it also was not entirely unexpected. The utmost level of privacy that these dreams promised created a certain strong sense of tension between them from the beginning. It wasn't expressly sexual tension, though that was part of it, at least on Damon's end. It was mostly the tension that they felt burn between them in real life, only intensified because of the lack of distraction. Normally, their environment or situation dissipated some of the crackling pressure, but in these dreams, the only things that were real were the barest parts of themselves and the barest parts of their relationship.

In Damon's experience, when you are consistently exposed to someone, honest and naked (in the figurative sense, of course), something is bound to happen.

After all, why not? In this setting, it's not like anyone would find out. He would be lying through his deadly teeth if he said he hadn't thought about what sex with Bonnie would be like. He couldn't help it. He was a sexual being, and Bonnie was incredibly beautiful with a naturally sexy quality about her. Something about the way she smiled sometimes, something about the way she lifted her chin in defiance, something about the smooth, seductive tone of her voice. He never understood why it didn't drive the rest of her guy friends crazy.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him as he moved back to close the front door. Focusing on her body was easier now, that was for sure.

Her kisses were feverish and swift, so he had to try to capture her mouth to keep it in one place. Damon put his hands on her face, stepping back steadily so they could make it to the bedroom. However, with the way she had a hand tangled in his hair and the way she was fitting perfectly against his body was making him impatient. With one fluid motion, he slid his palms to the underside of her thighs, lifting her so her ankles hooked around his back.

In an instant, they were in the bedroom, and Damon was unsure if they had ever come up for air. In a dream, do you even need air?

There was a moment where he was straddling her, she was laid against the bed, and they both took a moment to toss their shirts to the side. He supposed that if there was a moment to stop it, to question it, to have any sort of hesitation, that nanosecond would have been it.

He leaned down and she reached up, their lips finding each other somewhere in the middle, and the moment passed.

It was almost precisely like Damon had predicted it would be. He had seen Bonnie with other boys; in fact, it was ridiculous how often he always managed to butt into her relationships. It was never on purpose, but the fact that it was becoming a pattern that Damon somehow interfered with Bonnie's romances was not lost on him. He chalked it up to his inherent sense of possessiveness and mentally left it at that. At any rate, he had observed her make out session with Jamie before he interrupted it, and it had struck something within him. The sensation sprang to the surface of his skin, trickling to his fingers and to his toes. It was a desire to be on the receiving end of such passion, such ferocity. For Bonnie Bennett never let anything less than unstoppable passion thrive in her body and fuel her every decision.

Certainly, that was true now. Her hands traced the lines of his chest, deceptively gentle at first, and then, before Damon could even notice how she shifted her weight, she was on top of him, her hair draping around them like a wet curtain as she moved in for another kiss. Damon considered this position a bit warily, for he almost never allowed it to happen when he was with anyone else. He had the dominant role, and he liked it that way. However, Bonnie was definitely persuasive, and within the minute he decided that he did not care at all what position they were in, because all he could care about was how this encounter was surpassing all of his expectations and then some.

Presumably, rain continued tapping onto the roof, but you only notice things in dreams if you focus on them. And neither Bonnie nor Damon noticed the rain, not once.

* * *

From the moment he woke up, Damon wore a broad, mischievous smile.

Stefan noticed it right away, for it usually meant his brother was up to something.

"What's got you so happy?" Stefan asked cautiously, closing the book he was reading. Damon was nigh bounding down the stairs, and he had a significant skip in his step as he approached Stefan.

"Oh, nothing," he said, pouring himself a morning glass of whiskey. "I just had a very satisfying night's sleep, is all."

"You do remember that we technically don't need to sleep, right?" Stefan pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah," Damon said, waving his brother's words away. "Maybe I needed some rest. Being a soulless bloodsucker takes a lot out of you, you know."

"All of this voluntary 'rest' doesn't have anything to do with Bonnie being able to pull us into her dreams, does it?" Stefan asked, and Damon glared at him, hating that knowing tone in his voice.

"No, brother," Damon replied, but he was at a loss for a good counterargument. He took a gulp of his drink. He decided to be candid. "Though I will say that it's not completely awful to hang out with witchy when she can't do that aneurysm trick."

Stefan's eyebrows shot up, regarding Damon anew.

"Wow. I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said about Bonnie."

"Oh, shut up."

Disgruntled, Damon left the room. He had considered letting Stefan in on last night's tryst, but not anymore, now that he had annoyed him with his know-it-all attitude. Besides, Bonnie would have a fit if he told anyone, he was sure. While he did not quite understand what sort of truce existed between them now, he didn't want to ruin it, not if he could help it.

* * *

In true Damon fashion, he could not leave it alone. He had to poke and prod at the situation and see what became of it.

And so, he snuck into Bonnie's house during the day (he had long since convinced her father to invite him in), sprawled himself on her bed, and waited for her to come home.

He liked her room. It had more character than Elena's and was not as bright as Caroline's. Thick, midnight blue curtains blocked the window, making the room feel cut off from the world when they were closed. Everything had a natural, earthy feel to it- the dresser seemed like it had recently been carved out of oak, the rug under the bed was clearly hand-stitched and a grassy green color, and the walls were painted a light brown. There were stray brown speckles on the wood flooring, Damon noted, and he imagined, for a moment, Bonnie wiping beads of sweat from her forehead as she pressed a paintbrush to the wall, the room barren and silent as she worked. He couldn't imagine her father helping with the task; he was hardly ever in town as it was. Briefly, he wondered how her lack of a consistent father figure affected her.

_Probably doesn't affect her as much as the lack of non-vampire figures in her life, _he thought.

Then he heard the front door open, and he could not help but smile.

As predicted, she was not pleased when she walked in. She jumped in surprise, dropping her book bag.

"Damon? Why are you here?" she asked, apparently agitated at his intrusion. She picked up her bag and skirted around the edge of the room, as if she did not want to get any closer to him at all. He smirked, turning his head to follow her movements.

"Aw, Bonnie, come on. I thought you'd be a little less cold to me after last night," Damon said, propping his head up and somehow managing to position himself more provocatively. Bonnie tossed her bag under her desk and quirked a brow at him, crossing her arms across her chest.

"What are you talking about? What happened last night?"

Damon rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Don't play dumb, Bonnie. If there's one thing you're bad at, it's that. There's no need to worry; no one is around to hear this conversation." He gestured grandly to the rest of the room, trying to emphasize their privacy. "Don't be embarrassed. I knew you would succumb to my eternally boyish charms eventually. Everyone does."

Bonnie's furrow in her brow deepened. She shifted her weight uneasily.

"Damon, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Bonnie," he said, drawing out her name. "Don't tell me you already forgot? How can you possibly forget-…"

Using his inhuman speed, he was in front of her, very much so in her space, just as she had been in the dream. She refused to be startled by this, he could tell by the steely look in her eyes. Similar to how her proximity to him had not made Damon uncomfortable, she also seemed unchanged by his undeniable closeness.

However, what happened next _did _make her react. Because Damon loved to push someone a bit more, a step beyond what would normally be acceptable, because, in his opinion, that extra pressure was what made the best outcome happen.

"…this?" Pressing his body forward, he brought a hand to her face and leaned in, turning his head…

…and then he landed flat on his ass across the room, where Bonnie had sent him soaring with a burst of her magic.

He rubbed the back of his head, for he had smacked his skull against the wall hard upon collision.

"Well, fine, we can forget it," he mumbled, getting to his feet with some difficulty, "but I have to say that I liked your reaction to that a lot more the last time."

When he finally looked at her again, her eyes were wide and she seemed to be breathing heavily.

"Why did you-…the last time?" She shook her head with confusion, interrupting herself. "What do you mean 'the last time?' What do you think happened last night?"

Damon was done with the games now. He did not get why Bonnie was being so difficult about this.

"Our dream. We had sex," he said, frustration sizzling in every syllable. Naivety did not suit Bonnie, and he was getting fed up with it. "I haven't told anyone, if that's what you're worried about. So you can stop acting like it's some big damn secret."

Bonnie blinked, the expression on her face transforming into something he did not recognize. Then it cooled into calm, steady resolution. She stepped forward, as if to reach him, but she remembered that the bed was between them and stopped.

With a jolt, it dawned on Damon why she was acting this way. Why she seemed so hell-bent on avoiding the issue. He stared at her stoically as she spoke her next words, but all he wanted to do was leave.

"Damon, I undid my spell two nights ago," she said slowly. "I…I wasn't in that dream."

He didn't understand why it felt like nothing existed within his chest at that moment, like he had been entirely hollowed out. He didn't understand why this was affecting him so much, but it was. It was stupid. It had meant nothing in the first place, so why did he care that it hadn't occurred at all? When he camped out in Bonnie's bedroom, waiting for her to come home, had he been expecting something? What, exactly?

What the hell had he been expecting?

_Because it can never be me, can it? _

_Because I can never be the one that anyone chooses, not even once. Not even in a damn dream._

Damon did not understand why this mattered to him. But it did.

Maybe an immortal lifetime of being second-best had that effect on someone. Maybe he had expected…maybe he had thought that, with Bonnie and him growing closer, in spite of every instinct within them that fought against the idea…

Well. None of that meant anything now, did it?

All it meant was that he was now left with a very awkward situation. He had to try to salvage what little was left of his dignity. Damon sucked in a long breath.

"Ah. I see. I don't suppose you would let me Compel you to forget this entire conversation, would you?"

She stared at him, mouth open like she wanted to say something, but she shook her head slightly.

"Right," he said, straightening his posture. "You've never been the merciful one."

This seemed to offend her, with the way a look of hurt flashed across her face.

"I'll be on my way, then." He refused to meet her eyes, instead looking everywhere but. He made his way to the door.

"Sweet dreams, Bonnie."

With that, he was gone.

Needless to say, Damon Salvatore did not sleep that night. And not for many nights to come.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Oh gosh, I'm so bad at working on the projects I should be working on. It's just that my muse does this thing where it refuses to perform well for other writing projects because it reeeally wants to work on something else. It's so annoying like that, I'm so sorry. It refused to cooperate with me until I wrote this.

In any case, I hope you all like this! This is actually a very PG rated version of the chapter because I had no clue what I could get away with posting on this site. I have the other, more mature version of the chapter, and I'm considering posting it on LJ or Tumblr. I've just never really gotten close to writing anything like this before, so I'm a bit shy about it. I think I will write a couple more chapters for this series, because I really want to write some interactions between Bonnie and the other characters, like Elena and Caroline and Stefan. Also, I decided to re-design Bonnie's room in this. I know we haven't seen much of it, but I doubt it'll resemble my designs. But I just imagine Bonnie having this awesome, kickass room with cool knickknacks everywhere and witch stuff. Her room would probably be one of the few places of solitude, so it'd be important to her to make it all her own. Well, I hope you guys like this so far!


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